


Of Spiders and Jam

by katieelizabeth



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Not Canon Compliant, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-09 17:19:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1991268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katieelizabeth/pseuds/katieelizabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is afraid of spiders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Spiders and Jam

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a post I read on Tumblr, I think.  
> Molly and Sherlock don't belong to me, unfortunately.  
> All mistakes are mine.  
> Please read and comment x x

PING!

Molly sighed and glanced up from the screen of her laptop.  That was the third time her phone had pinged in less than twenty minutes.  She’d been ignoring it because she’d specifically told him that that weekend, she would be working on her article for the BMJ, and he wasn’t, under any circumstances, allowed to disturb her.

PING!

Fourth time.

Tutting, she picked up the phone and scrolled through the messages.

 **Baker Street** **.**

**Come at once.**

**-SH**

**If convenient.**

**-SH**

**If inconvenient.**

**Come anyway.**

**-SH**

**Please.**

**-SH**

Molly rolled her eyes, wondering what on earth could be so important.  And it clearly was important.  He’d said please.  As she pondered her reply the phone pinged a fifth time and another message popped up on the screen.

**Emergency.**

**Please come.**

**-SH**

She frowned at that, her heart giving an uneven beat.  An emergency.  What kind of emergency?  She hoped he hadn’t set fire to the flat again, but if he had surely he would call the fire brigade not her.  Perhaps it was something else.  People had broken in before, she remembered those men who had attacked Mrs Hudson and tied her up.  Visions of him lying in a bloodied heap in the living room floated, unbidden, into her head.  So, even though she was absolutely certain that she would regret it, she got up and shoved on her boots before leaving her flat, yanking on her parka, scarf, hat and gloves, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she went.

Ten minutes later her cab pulled up outside 221 Baker Street, during the journey her phone had pinged twice, both messages read:

**Emergency.**

**Please come.**

**-SH**

So it was a slightly panicked Molly Hooper who let herself into 221 Baker Street, using the emergency key he’d given her, and ran up the stairs.

Thankfully the living room of 221b seemed perfectly normal, in that it was a mess.  Stacks of newspapers, books and journals covered the coffee table, desk and large portions of the carpet, which was also littered with piles of screwed up paper and nicotine patches.  Amongst the mess she noticed three hand guns, six boxes of bullets and two swords.  Not to mention the harpoon that was propped up in the corner.  All in all, completely normal.

Molly frowned.  “Sherlock!!” she called.  “Sherlock, where are you?”

“Kitchen.” was the calm reply.

She rounded the corner, half expecting to see fire damage of some kind, no doubt he wanted her to get rid of the evidence before John or Mrs Hudson got home, but there was nothing.  No damage as far as she could see.  Just the completely immobile form of one Sherlock Holmes, standing with his back to her.

“Where’s the emergency?” she demanded, stepping up beside him.

“What?” he said, not even turning to look at her.

She sighed.  “The emergency.  You asked me to come, I came…now where is the emergency?”

“Oh.  That.  There’s a spider.”

“Sorry…what?  A spider?”

He huffed.  “Yes.  Over by the fridge.  Weren’t you listening?”

Molly exhaled noisily and scanned the floor around the fridge, quickly locating the, admittedly rather large and black spider, sitting on the greying linoleum.  “You called me round here, to tell me there was a spider?”

“Of course not.  I called you round here to get rid of the spider.”

“And why, pray, can’t you get rid of it?” Molly grumbled.

Sherlock sighed.  “I’m busy.”

“Busy?” she spluttered.  “Busy doing what?”

“Thinking…about a case.”

Raising her eyebrows, Molly glared at him.  “You don’t have a case at the moment…you’ve been bemoaning that fact all week.”

“Yes.  Well.  I’m preparing for when I do have a case.”

Molly snorted inelegantly and shook her head.  “Why can’t you just leave it?”

“It’s distracting me.”

“Distracting you?  It’s not doing anything!”

“It is.  It’s sitting there.  I can see it.  I can’t concentrate with it there.”

Molly gritted her teeth.  “If you want it gone, you get rid of it.  I can’t believe you disturbed me for something so ridiculous!  I know you think me writing an article is stupid and pointless but…”

“I don’t think that!” he said quickly.

“Oh Sherlock, you’ve made your views quite clear but seriously, I told you I was working on it this weekend.  I warned you to leave me alone.  So, as I said, if you want it gone, you get rid of it!  I’m going home!” she snapped, turning and starting towards the door.

“Please, Molly.” he breathed.

She stopped in the doorway.  Again with the pleading.  What was wrong with him?  Cursing herself, she turned back to him.  Noting for the first time that he still hadn’t moved an inch.  She frowned and stepped around him, examining his face.  His eyes were fixed on the spider, his entire body rigid.

“Are you…are you scared of spiders?” she asked uncertainly.

Sherlock let out a harsh laugh.  “Of course not.  Completely irrational fear.  Illogical.”

“Right…so…why don’t you just get rid of the spider yourself?  It’s really quite simple.  A glass and piece of paper.  Honestly it…”

“Can’t you do it?”

Molly let out a long suffering sigh and stepped back in the living room, yanked the knife out of the fireplace and took the top envelope before stabbing it back into the wooden shelf.  She then retrieved a clean glass from the draining board and quickly placed it over the spider, slipping the envelope underneath and straightening up.  Peering at the spider, which was indubitably ugly, she stepped closer to Sherlock who shook his head violently.

“Just get rid of it.” he said tightly.

“There’s nothing to be scared of.  It can’t hurt you.” she murmured as she moved closer.

He flinched, stepping back.  “Don’t, Molly.”

She frowned, he looked genuinely terrified.  In the interests of his sanity she went into the bathroom and quickly deposited the spider out of the window.

Sherlock looked marginally more relaxed, though when she went to put the glass and envelope on the side he leapt forward and snatched them out of her hands, dumping both into the bin before scrubbing his hands clean. 

“It’s ok to be scared sometimes you know.” she said softly.

Sherlock growled.  “Not it’s not.  It’s irrational.”

“It’s not.  It just makes you human.”

“Ha!  Human!” he spat, turning round and striding away from the sink.  “Emotions.  Sentiment.  All stupid!” 

“It isn’t.  There’s no shame in admitting you’re human.  I mean, I love you…all of you, even your irrational fears.”

He spun around and grimaced at her.  “See, even you think it’s irrational.”

“To be scared of that one is irrational.  If it was a venomous one or a tarantula or…”

“Stop.” he hissed, scowling at her.

Molly held her hands up and smiled.  “Ok, ok…no more talk of spiders, I promise.”

Sherlock returned the smile though it faltered slightly when she started walking towards him.  “Wash your hands first.”

Molly rolled her eyes but did as he asked, vigorously scrubbing her hands with the antibacterial soap John insisted on having.  With that done she strode towards him and slipped her arms around his waist, pressing her ear against his chest as he held her closer.

“Yup…definitely human.” she whispered, listening to his heartbeat before stretching up and kissing him softly.

Sherlock kissed her back before pulling away.  “Don’t tell John.”

“What?  That you’re human?  Or that you’re scared of spiders?”

He smirked.  “Both.”

Molly smiled.  “Don’t worry, I won’t tell John.”

He flashed her a bright smile before kissing her ardently.

“Won’t tell me what?”

They broke apart to find John Watson gazing at them impassively.  John was now largely unaffected by their displays of affection.  She supposed him catching them getting a little too carried away on the sofa when he’d come home early had done that.

She and Sherlock exchanged glances.  “Oh, nothing…” Molly said quickly.  “…just, Sherlock used your jam.” it wasn’t technically a lie.  Sherlock had used John’s brand new jar of jam the day before.

John frowned.  “But…I just bought that jar the other day!  What the bloody hell did you use the whole jar for?”

Sherlock shrugged.  “An experiment.  I needed a sticking agent.”

“A sticking…couldn’t you have just used…oh, I don’t know, glue!?”

“No. It had to be natural.  So I used the jam.”

John scowled and stormed off up to his room, muttering darkly about thieves and annoying flatmates.

Molly and Sherlock looked back at each other and promptly burst out laughing.

* * *

“Why are you afraid of spiders?” she whispered, into the darkness of his bedroom that night.

“Does it matter?” he replied after a long moment.

Molly shrugged, lacing her fingers around his under the duvet.  “No, but I am curious.”

Sherlock huffed loudly and drew her even closer to him, his hard chest pressing up against her back, his breath on the nape of her neck.  “When Mycroft was younger he was fascinated with entomology.  He had a whole room of tanks filled with millipedes, centipedes, stick insects, earth worms, snails, slugs and…spiders.  When I was five and Mycroft was twelve, one of his tarantulas escaped.  I found it on my pillow…” she felt him shudder behind her.  “…see, ridiculous.”

“Not ridiculous…” she murmured, squeezing his fingers before bringing them up to her lips, pressing kisses to the slender digits.  “…I told you, it’s human.  No matter how much you pretend, Sherlock Holmes, you are human.”


End file.
